Seasons

Seasons: 

still an hour or so before sunrise and things are at their quietest, there's a sense that's nature's less disturbed by my presence. I'm more vulnerable now, open to shadows and the soft light of moon and stars. My body is responsive to the slightest sound, not overtly so, but on a keen edge, listening through skin as well as ears, deeply, to the point of hearing how the seasons change. 

what I hear is that there's never truly just one season at a time.

there's shades of summer still present even as autumn slides on towards early winter, only a hint -perhaps a lone bullfrog, lured by a false warmth, gives a call, receiving no reply, it's every companion buried in deep earth for the duration of these colder mornings. I walk through these changes, listening, secrets shared, as even my own body whispers of a growing age, taking a bit longer to reach a comfortable stride as winter nears. There's always an ongoing conversation, communication taking place between layers between layers of a single world. 

walking through the seasons, 

earliest hours,

I'm learning to listen. 

~

Peace, Eric